The First Law
by Ewol Navi
Summary: A lone adjutant & a human medic find themselves stranded in deep space aboard a crippled battle cruiser and soon discover that they are not alone. My entry for the Blizzard 2011 Writing Contest. Please R & R!


The First Law

Blizzard 2011 Writing Contest Entry

"_A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm." ~ Isaac Azimov_

Cold silence reigned over the bridge, a terrible lull as stark and unyielding as the void that lay beyond the shattered viewports of the deck. The calm was broken only by the intermittent fizzing of a live cable that still desperately attempted to supply a lone light strip with power. The flicker of erratic illumination played over the grey, metal features of an offline adjutant that hung slack on her mounting brace. Her darkened optic lenses stared lifelessly down at the body of a man clad in red CMC command armor, who lay unmoving at the base of her operations chamber.

The stillness was suddenly broken when a heavy shudder moved through the bridge, the hum of a restored power coupling inaudible in the silence of space. With mute creaks, mighty blast shields closed over the broken viewports, and locked together to form an airtight seal. A rushing hiss filled the room as atmosphere vented into the bridge, and a deep, vibrating thrum rolled through the command center as gravity was restored. A jolt of power, a shower of sparks and the adjutant's body jumped. The darkened optics flickered for a moment, before a clear blue light shone from the robotic eyes and the synthoid slowly raised her head.

Suboptimal vision greeted the adjutant's reinitialized awareness, causing the lenses of her eyes to oscillate back and forth until focus was achieved. A number of warnings and alerts buzzed at the edges of her consciousness, each of them decrying the sudden loss of power that she had suffered. One in particular caught her attention and flashed to the fore-front of her processes. Situation Critical. The adjutant swung her head jerkily on her neck mount, a few sparks spitting from a damaged connector that would have smoothed the motion. The spotlights of her eyes pierced the gloom, surveying the absolute ruin that had overcome the bridge. A discarded C-7 pistol lay at the foot of the tactical display, dropped by the dead man who lay slumped over the dark holo table. An attempt to recall any combat proved fruitless, as a damaged internal drive returned her inquiry with a report of its critical status. The adjutant turned its attention to more basic information, an attempt to recollect herself, her posting and her purpose.

"Adjutant 22-04 on-on-online…" she stammered, an unexpected surge nearly looping her speech program, "Operating aboard United Earth Directorate Battlecruiser 'Muspelheim'. Requesting orders from commanding officer."

22-04 jerked her head this way and that, optically scanning for the commanding officer in question. Her gaze finally came to rest on the armored corpse that lay at the foot of her chamber, and the brace of stars on his chestplate told her precisely what she needed to know. A functioning drive called up the profile image of a man in his late fifties, hair grey, clean shaven, face scarred from many battles.

"Commander Theodore Dray, deceased," she stated, "No commanding officer detected."

A protocol search immediately jumped to the forefront of her processes. With no commanding officer present and capable, command of the ship fell to her until such time as she could locate a human officer of higher authorization than her own. A clear directive soon followed; assess the status of the Muspelheim. An attempt to follow the directive ended as it struck a dead connection and the adjutant turned her head to examine the source of the problem. Her left arm mount featured an array of torn cables, many of them still sparking and sputtering. Her right mount had fared much better, as had the vast array of connectors that spilled from her torso. She would have to find a work around. As she set processes in place to open new ports through her other connectors, she flexed her left arm mount. The jacks within released the ruined cables, dropping them to the floor with loud clangs. 22-04 raised her arm and her operations chamber responded with a mechanical whirr as a hand and forearm prosthesis lowered from the roof of the pod. With a snap the limb locked in place, and the adjutant experimentally flexed the five synthetic digits of her hand. Amidst the many red flares of critical status warnings, a green light finally popped up, indicating that she at least was in proper working order.

"Lights," she spoke.

The command was confirmed, and a flush of illumination rushed over the bridge. The sight was a grim one, as she had expected it to be, but it gave the synthoid no pause. A few of the bridge's stations hummed to life as she activated them, and the holo table flickered as it threw up a matrix of light. Bridge status reduced from red to yellow. Not optimal, but operational.

"Accessing system log," 22-04 spoke, though fully aware there was no one to hear her follow her speech protocols.

The system returned a negative on her inquiry. Access not found. A whisp of displeasure flitted across her consciousness before she cast it aside in favor of a new order.

"Accessing combat log," 22-04 attempted.

Again the result returned negative, though this time the processes returned with a reason as to why. A combination of downed power to specific connections and the inexplicable absence of a multitude of wireless access points were stymieing her attempts. The adjutant hesitated for a fraction of a second, before turning her attention to the multitude of critical statuses that were no doubt to blame for her impeded progress.

"Access ship status, full assessment," she ordered.

The reports rolled in, a flood of red conditions that poured from every corner of the ship. Multiple hull breaches on all decks save A and B. Power grid offline for all decks below C. Engine core offline, with reports of destroyed thrusters in both the primary cluster and in secondary boosters all across the ship's ventral hull. Comm status returned mixed reports, with only a handful of connections still operational. Reports from the primary reactor were unavailable, as all data connections to the reactor bay had been severed. For 22-04 the tale was clear. The Muspelheim was alone, injured and dead in the water.

Amidst the numerous discouraging reports, the adjutant found a single bright spot. A ship-wide repair order had been activated at the behest of one Chief Engineer Karl Dulinsky. The order was responsible for the restoration of power and atmosphere to the bridge, as well as repairs to 22-04's systems. Given the state of the ship, and his absence from the bridge, the adjutant surmised that the Chief Engineer was likely dead. With her assessment completed, 22-04 set to removing numerous alerts from the log, storing those that could not be immediately fixed while queuing processes for those that could. It was in the midst of this task that a repair process returned a condition green to her, indicating that it had accessed one of the ships many redundant server bays. 22-04 left her sub-routines to run their course as she turned her attention to the accessed server.

"Accessing system log, reviewing from last launch from space dock," she said as she turned her eyes towards the holo table in the center of the room, "Run program."

The hologram flickered as it produced a playback of video and text logs, beginning with the ship's launch from space dock. 22-04 sped up the playback, as her eyes roved over the running text. The Muspelheim had been docked over Korhal when it was called up to join the main fleet in a defense pattern. Though the order had come well in advance of the approaching enemy fleet, the UED forces had proved insufficient to mount a successful defense. A joint force of protoss, zerg and Dominion forces had ripped through their defenses and made planetfall. With Korhal lost, all surviving vessels had been ordered to fall back to Char, the sole remaining UED stronghold in the sector. Fearing that it would take too long to chart a proper course to Char, Commander Dray ordered a warp jump to the nearest patch of open space in an attempt to escape the slaughter. The jump had been successful, and the vessel had proceeded on sublight engines while preparations were made for the second warp jump. However, no such jump had been logged. Instead a red alert and a call to battlestations had been issued, shortly before the log abruptly ended. Scouring the server produced no further information, and 22-04 terminated the playback.

A new process piqued her attention, indicating that a few remaining sensor arrays were slowly coming back online. Repair processes had restored internal ship scans, and at present, was capable of scanning for human life forms aboard the vessel. Had she possessed breath to hold, 22-04 might have done so as she brought up the program and initialized the scan. A server log told her that the ship had started out from Korhal with a crew compliment of five-thousand, six-hundred and eighty-two crewmembers. As the scanner sweep moved through the ship, the report proved ever grimmer. No human life signs were detected on board. Aside from the humming of power moving through conduits, the Muspelheim was cold, empty and silent. Dissatisfied with the negative result, 22-04 initiated a second sweep, and demanded that the sensors attend to their task with more care and detail. The processes set to running as commanded and the adjutant waited, intently watching the read-outs that streamed from the scanners. Soon an alert spiked from the sensors, as they indicated that they had completed their sweep and had indeed found something.

22-04 turned her eyes to the holo table, where the light display threw up the results of the scan. The report was a muddy mixture of erratic readings and false positives. However, a single reading had held sure and steady, a human bio-sign that had remained constant under multiple sweeps. Immediately the adjutant extracted the reading from the log and ran a trace. The reading had been taken from deck C, in the starboard medbay. The adjutant seized control of the sensors for herself and focused them on the medical quarters, where she was rewarded with the steady blip of a human bio-sign.

In a flurry of commands, 22-04 brought up schematics and blueprints for the starboard side of C deck, and immediately sent an inquiry to the surveillance system. The system responded slowly, but successfully offered cameras and sensors on almost all decks. Immediately the adjutant activated the medbay surveillance cams, and directed them to pan across their respective rooms. The adjutant was greeted with the sight of a ruined laboratory, infirmary and medical arming station. Shattered glass, overturned gurneys and swinging light fixtures highlighted the disorder. But amongst the wreckage, something moved. A bare human foot shifted behind a set of overturned tables, and the sound of rustling thermo blankets echoed through the bay.

Again 22-04 inspected the comm system, pushing processes through a few remaining connections in an attempt to open a port to the medbay. Success came when she was finally able to link into the paging system of an empty recovery bed. After glancing at the interference readouts to ensure her voice would be intelligible, the adjutant opened the comm and spoke.

"Attention crewman," 22-04 addressed the survivor, "Please state your name, rank and status."

A rapid rustling of thermo blankets came as the answer. The adjutant watched her surveillance feeds as a human swathed in the reflective fabrics of the blankets rose from behind the tables and glanced around in shock and surprise.

"Who… who's th-th-there…?" the crew member asked, obviously shivering from cold.

22-04 hesitated for a moment to check the life support status of the medbay. Fortunately the auxiliary grid had managed to maintain power to the medbay, but life support had been functioning at minimal levels. The infirmary had been provided little more than breathable atmosphere and enough heat to keep the room from freezing over. The adjutant immediately ordered an increase in both heat and power, before returning her attention to the human being sitting on the floor of the infirmary.

"Adjutant 22-04, requesting name, rank and status of surviving crewman," the synthoid finally replied, "Please comply."

This time the human on the floor scrambled to their feet, and shuffled across the room, dragging an IV stand along with them. The crewman stumbled to the bed and gripped at the receiver. A hand pushed back the thermo blanket over the crewman's head, revealing a messy pixie cut of auburn hair.

"Hello… hello!?' the human responded, clicking frantically at the receiver, "Th-this is Private First Class Savanna Weiss, UED Medical Corps. I-I'm… I'm alright, I'm not hurt… but it's really cold in here."

"Life support has been adjusted to more optimal levels," the adjutant stated monotonously, "Please stand by."

"A-alright…" the medic answered shakily.

22-04 ran a search of the database, and a dossier was quickly retrieved. PFC Savanna Weiss. Age, 26. Sex, Female. Assigned to the Muspelheim after its acquisition from the Dylarian Shipyards over Dylar IV. The adjutant quickly perused the private's file, before reactivating the bed pager.

"PFC Weiss," the adjutant spoke, "I do not detect any further human presence in the medbay, but my sensors have been damaged. Are you alone?"

"Y-yeah… I'm the only one here," Savanna answered, her voice beginning to steady as the room heated, "The chief told the medical staff to meet here… so we could try and get to the escape pods but… no one ever came."

Medical Chief Dylan Raimes, the adjutant noted. Also likely deceased.

"I-I've been stuck in here since the attack," the medic went on, "I tried to get out but the door lock sealed… something about the hall outside being depressurized."

"Attack?" the adjutant asked, immediately recalling the red alert report to the holo table's display, "PFC Weiss, can you elaborate on the nature of the attack?

"You… you don't know?" the woman asked with quiet surprise, "Aren't you the computer? Don't you have records and stuff?"

"Most of my systems have been badly damaged," Adjutant 22-04 reported, "I am attempting to repair them. Any information you can provide will be useful."

"We were hit by a zerg attack wave," Savanna said wearily, "I don't know where they came from, but they hit the ship hard. We went from red alert and battlestations, to a ship-wide evacuation order. The evac order went on for awhile and then… well, I haven't heard anything for three days."

The adjutant paused at that. The ship had been drifting for three days? With systems damaged as badly as they were, she'd had nothing to check the log timestamps against. If they had indeed been adrift for three days, then it was clear that no aid had been dispatched to retrieve them. Protocol now demanded a new course of action. The ship was a wreck, but a single crewman was still alive, which meant that 22-04 required a new directive.

"Please stand by while I verify your information," the adjutant spoke through the pager, "Would you like a report of the current situation?"

"Yes…" Savanna said after a moment's pause, "Yes please."

"The Muspelheim is irreparably damaged," 22-04 reported, "Power and life support is down all across the ship and the engines have been destroyed. There are no vessels on scanners, and you are the only survivor I detect on board."

"But… that can't…" Savanna stammered in shock, "What about… what about the commander?"

22-04 turned her head down to stare at the armored corpse that lay below her.

"Commander Dray is dead. No other human life forms detected," the adjutant answered, "PFC Weiss, you are the sole survivor of this ship."

"God…" Savanna whispered, her voice tight with anguish.

"I will verify your information and attempt more comprehensive scans," the adjutant said, "However, we require a new directive. Are you able to report for duty?"

Savanna did not answer for several long moments, her green eyes flicking back and forth as she tried to process her new, crushing reality.

"Private Weiss," the adjutant repeated, "Are you able to report for duty?"

"Yes…" Savanna finally answered before clearing her throat and straightening stance, "Private First Class, Savanna Weiss reporting for duty ma'am."

"There is a medical arming station at the far end of the medbay," 22-04 stated, "Please proceed to the station for armament and deployment."

"Yes ma'am," Savanna answered again, this time without hesitation.

With heat quickly returning to the medbay the medic was able to shed a few of her thermo layers as she shuffled out of the infirmary. 22-04 directed her cameras to keep an eye on the private as she turned to her data restoration processes. The programs returned a somewhat disappointing response. They had successfully retrieved some of the recent combat logs of the Muspelheim, but much of the data was corrupted or badly damaged. The adjutant reviewed the files anyway. She soon found herself reading a handful of broken report logs and watching corrupted and static filled recordings. However, PFC Weiss' words rang true. At 22:31 shipboard time, a large group of zerg had been spotted and subsequently engaged. The zerg numbers had been overwhelming even for the battlecruiser. Though the Muspelheim inflicted heavy losses on the zerg, the aliens had attacked and boarded the vessel. The shipwide evacuation order was issued only forty minutes after the initial engagement, as defense units across the ship began reporting numerous casualties. Here again the log broke abruptly, leaving 22-04 with no hard data from the end of the conflict. It was, however, all too apparent how the battle had ended. The humans had lost, but somehow the ship had survived.

The thought led to a new line of reasoning that produced two new questions for 22-04. How had the Muspelheim survived such a brutal attack, if all its defenders were now dead? And, for that matter, what was a zerg attack wave doing in deep space in the first place? The adjutant quickly set processes in place to scour the available data and scrub down the reports and recordings for any possible clues. A second command was sent to the sensor arrays, instructing them to recalibrate and scan for any alien life forms, particularly zerg bio-signs, that might still be lingering in the area. These tasks in place, 22-04 turned her attention back to the sole survivor of her ship, and the new directive that came with her. The adjutant glanced at the video feed as PFC Weiss stepped off the arming platform, bolted and sealed into her CMC 405 Light Combat Suit. Savanna hefted her combat shield and experimentally extended her laser scalpel and auto-anesthetic units. Satisfied that her armor was in working order, the medic turned to salute at the nearest camera. 22-04 in turn accessed the private's comm link to open a direct channel between herself and her medical unit.

"PFC Weiss, are you prepared?" the adjutant asked.

"Prepped and ready," Savanna responded.

"Understood, new objective determined, relaying orders," 22-04 stated, "Shipwide evacuation order is still in effect. All personnel must proceed to launch bays immediately. Alert, all primary launch bays have been destroyed and no viable craft remain on board."

"I can't exactly leave the ship in just my suit ma'am," Savanna commented.

"Acknowledged, determining most viable means of evacuation for PFC Weiss," the adjutant replied, "However, C deck remains at critical levels. Please proceed to the nearest deck lift."

"Copy that," Savanna nodded firmly, "I could use some help getting through those doors."

"Stand by," 22-04 said, taking a moment to access the door control. "Door lock released. Caution, large hull breach detected ahead. Seal suit and prepare for zero g conditions."

"Acknowledged," Savanna replied as her visor slid down to clamp her suit shut, "Here goes nothin'…" she muttered under her breath.

The medic gripped the door control and gave it a hard twist, resulting in a snap-hiss from the barrier. With a high pitched whine and whistle, the door slid open, causing the medbay's atmosphere to quickly vent into the ruined hall outside. The medic took a deep breath to steel herself, before shouldering her way through the door and clomping into the hall outside. Carefully she picked her way over fallen support beams and hopped over severed wires that still sparked with power. The woman did not have far to go before she discovered the source of the depressurization, and as she rounded a bend in the hall she gave a horrified gasp.

"Oh god…" she breathed.

"Surveillance coverage lost," 22-04 stated, "PFC Weiss, I am requesting access to your helmet cam."

For a moment the sound of clunking came over the comm, and the adjutant's request was answered by a static filled video feed. Once the static had cleared 22-04 magnified the feed, and beheld the source of Savanna's surprise. The mother of all hull breaches stretched open before her, a wide chasm nearly a hundred meters wide. Whatever blast had caused the breach, it had torn clean through the ship. Savanna found herself staring down into other decks below her, and gave a frightened squeak as she realized that she could see naked stars both above and below her.

"You will have to jump," the adjutant said flatly.

"M-ma'am!?" the private exclaimed.

"I detect no intact passages from your location to the main body of the ship," the adjutant explained, "You will have to jump."

"Yes… yes ma'am," the medic nodded as she swallowed hard.

A quick sweep told the adjutant what she already knew, there were no systems in the area that would allow her to aid the medic. Instead the synthoid turned her attention to the task of finding a means of escape for her human unit. The solution came more quickly than 22-04 had anticipated. Primary launch bays had all been ravaged, but a small launch bay on A deck remained untouched. The commander's launch bay contained his private shuttle, a heavily modified APOD-33 dropship. A quick inspection of its file solidified the adjutant's decision. The vessel was well plated and lightly armed with a modified engine core capable of short distance warp jumps. Modified for comfort and luxury, it was well stocked with enough supplies to sustain a human for a reasonable amount of time, long enough at least to reach the nearest system.

"Private Weiss," the adjutant spoke.

"Eeek!" came the medic's reply.

Turning her attention back to the video feed, 22-04 discovered that she had addressed the medic at the exact moment that the human had chosen to jump. Savanna Weiss tumbled through open space, limbs flailing as she cried out in alarm. Weightless and frictionless she flew through the breach, carried by the momentum of her jump. The open expanse of stars stared at her from either end of the ship's wound, like hungry mouths of the void waiting to devour her. But the medic's jump had been well aimed, and her trajectory was quickly carrying her to the open hallway on the other side. The hall accepted her as she flew inside, and the medic met the deck wall with a heavy clunk of metal.

"Oof!" she exclaimed as she bounced off the wall and began to spiral back the way she had come, "Oh no, no, no, no!"

"Sealing the corridor, stand by," the adjutant answered.

The hallway doors engaged and silently slid closed, slamming together and sealing tightly. Savanna continued to tumble for a moment before atmosphere and gravity were restored to the hallway, and she dropped to the floor.

"Are you unharmed, Private Weiss?" the adjutant inquired.

"I think I'm gonna be sick…" the woman replied as she stumbled to her heavily booted feet, "But yeah… yeah I'm fine."

"I have found your point of exit," 22-04 reported, "Please proceed to A deck and…"

The adjutant paused as one of her sensor arrays spiked a high alert, and she immediately turned her attention to the array.

"Private Weiss, please stand by," the adjutant said.

The sensor array displayed its report. The order to scan for zerg bio-signs had been completed, and it had returned a high yield of results. Zerg bio-signs had been detected in nearly every sector of the ship. At present all signatures had remained stationary, likely in hibernation. However the high alert had been issued for a particularly large bio-sign that had been detected in the lower decks where it occupied the reactor room.

"Adjutant?" Private Weiss asked hesitantly.

"Stand by," 22-04 repeated.

The adjutant extracted the data from the report and recalled the combat log. A command was issued to reference the bio sign with those detected during the attack, and a match was found almost immediately. Had she been capable of expressing surprise, the synthoid might have gasped as she identified the bio-sign and finally returned her attention to Savanna.

"PFC Weiss," the adjutant spoke, "I have a report on the current situation."

"Hit me…" Savanna said a little hesitantly.

"I am detecting numerous zerg bio-signs on board this vessel," 22-04 reported, "At present they all appear to be in a state of dormancy, however I have detected a large bio-sign in the ship's reactor room. I believe it to be a zerg queen."

"A… a what?" the medic gasped, "What's a _queen_ doing on the ship!?"

"The zerg group that was engaged by the Muspelheim was not an attack wave," the adjutant surmised, "It was an escort group, likely following an order from the Queen of Blades to rendezvous on Korhal with the rest of her swarm. The Muspelheim was not destroyed because it is being infested. The queen is attempting to survive."

"Oh _god_…" the medic whispered, her voice trembling with a hint of fear.

"PFC Weiss," 22-04 continued, "New objective received. The Muspelheim must be destroyed."

"What? Why!?" Savanna exclaimed.

"The infestation of this battlecruiser presents a security risk to UED operations in this sector," the adjutant responded, "The vessel must be destroyed. However, I am unable to initiate customary self-destruct protocols. I cannot access the reactor to initiate the meltdown sequence. I will require your assistance to create a suitable detonation."

"With what?" the medic asked, "What else can blow apart the ship like that?"

"The Yamato Cannon," 22-04 answered immediately.

The blueprints on her holotable spun around, pinpointing Savanna's location and the location of the battleship's main gun. The nuclear core that provided the weapon's blast yield remained intact but offline, and the adjutant lacked the power to fully activate its systems.

"I cannot bring the weapon itself online," 22-04 stated, "However, an overload of the weapon core can be manually activated on site. You must proceed to B-deck and activate the core."

"I-I'm not an engineer or on security staff!" Savanna protested, "I don't know how to activate that thing!"

"I will provide you with the necessary instruction," the adjutant answered, "But you must move quickly. The zerg are not yet aware of your presence. I do not know if they will remain unaware for long."

There was a long silence from the medic and the adjutant patiently waited for her response. Finally the sound of a heavy breath came over the comm., and Savanna slowly nodded her head.

"Alright… okay…" the medic agreed, "Which way do I go?"

"Downloading map and coordinates to your helmet," 22-04 replied, "Please hurry, Private. We do not have much time."

The doors at the end of the hallway slid open and Savanna stared into the darkness beyond. The lights on her suit chassis snapped on and the medic took another deep breath as she raised her shield and forced herself to stride into the dark depths of the Muspelheim. The adjutant set processes to keep close watch on the medic and to monitor any changes along her path. The route set for the private had been plotted to take her as safely around the zerg bio-signs as possible, but the adjutant refused to leave any detail unattended to. A quick reroute of power from nearby systems brought an operational deck lift online and soon Savanna arrived on B deck, where lights and atmosphere were still operational.

"No hostile bio-signs detected on B-deck," the adjutant reported as Savanna stepped off the lift, "Proceed to the forward battery."

Savanna didn't bother to respond besides a hard swallow and a nod as she strode down the hall, her boots clomping heavily against the deck plates. The broken bodies of dead marines lay across her path, and the medic picked her way past them. There were signs of battle here, including splattered alien corpses; zerg that had been ripped apart by C-14 rifle fire. 22-04 opened doors along the medic's path, while sealing off others to ensure nothing unexpected would befall the private. Finally Savanna reached the door of the forward battery, and the barrier lifted away to allow her access.

"That… is a big freaking gun," Savanna commented.

"Downloading instructions," the adjutant reported, "Please proceed to the base of the cannon mount."

The medic picked her way through the forward battery, eyeing the massive gun mounts that she had only seen a handful of times. The chamber had been spared the carnage that filled the halls of the rest of the deck, but Savanna found herself unsettled by the absolute silence that had fallen over the guns. At the base of the cannon mount the private discovered a large access hatch, which 22-04 bid her to open.

"Descend the ladder and enter the gun reactor," the adjutant instructed, even as the medic began to climb down the rungs.

"Okay… okay…" Savanna muttered, "This would be a lot easier without the armor."

"The armor is for your protection PFC Weiss," 22-04 noted.

"True… okay, I'm… whoa," Savanna broke off as she opened the door at the bottom of the ladder.

As she stepped through the door, Savanna found herself staring up at a massive nuclear reactor. Radiation symbols had been stamped everywhere, and though the rest of the room was silent the reactor itself hummed with power. The medic strode slowly towards the sleeping destroyer, carefully approaching as though afraid it might wake and strike her down.

"There is a panel in front of you," the adjutant directed, "I am routing power to bring it online. Input code 337-495-A."

"Stand by…" Savanna answered as she stepped to the console in question.

The panels flickered to life, and the dusty screens projected fuzzy readouts that played over the reflective visor of the medic's suit. A key pad extended from the panel and Savanna input the code as instructed. There was a beep of confirmation and the reactor gave an answering hum that made Savanna jump.

"Please alter the reactor's output to maximum yield," 22-04 requested, "And set status to 'green' for firing sequence."

"Done… and done," Savanna reported as she tapped across the screen.

"Stand by," 22-04 replied.

The adjutant examined the readouts from the cannon. With the weapon itself offline, an initiation of the firing sequence would cause the reactor to charge. Giving the order to fire would release the nuclear blast, and without the cannon's magnetic directional field to guide the energy, the reactor would simply explode, causing a chain reaction that would destroy the entire vessel. Or so 22-04 hoped. All other self-destruction protocols had been rendered ineffective, and it was the first time the adjutant had been forced to improvise without human direction. However the plan was logical, and so she had put it into motion.

"So… so I guess this is it," Savanna's voice came over the comm, "Not a great way to die, but not the worst either."

"Private, the evacuation order is in effect," the adjutant stated, "The reactor is at thirty-five percent charge, you must evacuate the ship before it reaches maximum yield."

"What?" the medic blinked inside her helmet, "But… I thought…"

"My directive is clear PFC Weiss," 22-04 interrupted, "I am downloading the route to your HUD now. Please make your way to the command hangar and prepare for immediate launch."

"Y-yes ma'am!" Savanna responded eagerly, feeling a resurgence of hope rise within her.

The adjutant turned her attention briefly to the reactor read-outs, when a sudden alarm went up from the internal sensors. 22-04 immediately brought them to the fore front of her processes, and watched as a spike in activity from onboard bio-signs steadily began to increase. Not only were the bio-signs apparently rousing, several of them were on the move… including the largest signature that occupied the main reactor room.

"PFC Weiss," 22-04 spoke, "Please move quickly."

"Yes ma'am," Savanna answered as she clambered out of the hatch, "I'm moving as fast as I… aah!"

The medic's shriek forced 22-04's attention to the surveillance screens, and she watched as the medic fell forward and flailed against the deck. The cause of the private's misfortune suddenly became apparent, as the heavy deck plates burst apart and a mass of clawed appendages broke through. The limbs attached to a vaguely humanoid figure that still wore the bright orange jumpsuit of an engineer. The holo badge that hung from his chest displayed his identity. It seemed that Chief Engineer Karl Dolinsky was not quite dead after all.

"PFC Weiss," the adjutant said, her even tones bearing the tiniest hint of urgency, "Evacuate the forward battery immediately."

"Oh god, what is that thing!?" Savanna shrieked as she scrambled to her feet.

"Chief Engineer Dolinksy. He has been infested," 22-04 answered, "Evacuate the forward battery."

"I'm trying but… aaargh!" the medic cried out.

As the private turned to run, the infested man lashed out with a long chitinous tail. The blow sent Savanna sprawling and caused her to slide across the deck plates. Dolinsky was hot on her heels, his insectoid legs propelling him across the deck with alarming speed. Savanna raised her shield just in time to ward off a blow from a serrated claw that gouged a deep scratch in her defense. The medic screamed as Dolinsky set upon her with savage fury, his limbs beating her shield and clawing at her armor as she kicked and struggled beneath him.

"Get off! Get oooff!" Savanna shrieked as she brandished her anesthetic unit.

The medic swung a fist at the man, puncturing his chest with the needles. The engineer howled and clawed at her, his sharp claws slashing against the light plating of her armor. Again the medic stabbed, and again, and finally the anesthetic took effect. The engineer's movements turned slow and sluggish, but the dose did not halt his assault. With an angry yowl, Dolinsky's claws gripped the edge of the medic's shield and gave a powerful heave. Savanna screamed as she was sent flying through the air, her shield ripped clean off its housing on her arm. The medic hit the deck and rolled through the open blast doors of the forward battery.

"Ad-adjutant…" Savanna wheezed, attempting to recover her breath from the blow, "Adjutant help…"

Dolinsky gave a maddened and inhuman scream as he charged, and Savanna's eyes widened as she cast about for a means of defense. The corpse of a nearby marine offered its C17 Impaler, and Savanna scrambled towards the dead soldier. Dolinsky's claws scraped against the deck plates as he barreled towards her faster than Savanna could crawl. The medic glanced over her shoulder and gasped in horror as the infested engineer rose up over her and brandished his claws for the killing stroke.

The blow never came, as a powerful whir echoed through the hall and the blast door suddenly dropped. With crushing force the reinforced steel door struck the engineer, slamming him into the deck plates hard enough to snap bone and crack chitin. Dolinsky gave a hideous screech as he writhed in pain, only to be suddenly lifted as the blast door rose up. Another decisive whir came from the door's mechanism as it dropped again, crushing Dolinsky into the plates with merciless force. Choked keens and agonized hisses poured from the engineer as his limbs twitched and convulsed. The door rose a third time and slammed down again once more, this time giving a heavy creak as its pistons forced it flush with the floor. The infested terran gave a final croak as the door severed his torso, and brackish purple blood poured out across the hall floor. For a moment all Savanna could hear was the sound of her own frightened breathing in her ears, until her comm crackled to life and overrode her panicked panting.

"PFC Weiss?" the adjutant asked.

"Y-yes ma'am?" the medic responded.

"Run."

Savanna scrambled to her feet, her fingers closing around the marine's rifle as she lifted it into her arms. Without further hesitation the private followed the adjutant's order, and took off at a dead sprint down the corridor. Satisfied that the medic was on her way, 22-04 turned her attention back to her immediate task, the destruction of the Muspelheim. An alert blared at her that the zerg bio-signs were on the move and all of them were converging on the fleeing medic… all save for one. The largest signature, the queen's signature, was climbing out of the reactor and had made her way into an access tunnel that led to A deck and the bridge. The adjutant pushed the notification aside and initialized the Yamato Cannon's firing control program. After confirming her intention to fire the cannon, the program turned over control of the cannon and 22-04 initiated the stand-by order. A hum of power on the bridge caused the adjutant to turn her eyes to the command station, where the captain's console glowed to life. A hatch on the console slid open and a large crimson button extended. It was only a moment before the adjutant understood. The firing control was manual, to ensure that the order could only be given from the bridge itself.

"I'm in the lift!" Savanna shouted into her comm., "But I hear movement… lots of it!"

"Continue on your present route," 22-04 responded, "I am sealing off all other access ways to the command hangar."

"O-okay… I'm on my way!" the medic responded.

Access to door control was immediately granted and the adjutant dragged all her processes away from their other tasks. A flock of sub-routines were dispatched to seal off all passages, doors and access ways that might allow the zerg to impede the private's progress. Another group was dispatched to the back-up servers, with orders to immediately copy warp data and star charts to the shuttle's computer. With these orders in place 22-04 raised her right arm mount and ejected the cables from it. A whir sounded in her chamber and a second arm prosthesis lowered from overhead. As the arm locked onto her the chamber released a deep hum, and the adjutant's mounting strut began to extend to push her out of her chamber.

The mounting strut released a decisive snap as it extended to its full length, and 22-04 disengaged her magnetic locks. With loud clanks her clamps released and the adjutant fell from the brace with an ear rending scrape of steel. 22-04 collapsed to the floor with a cacophonous clatter, her wires and cables bouncing wildly as she hit the deck. The sound of gunfire and alarmed shouts came over the comm and the adjutant paused to address her fleeing crewmember.

"PFC Weiss I am initiating the shuttles pre-flight preparations," 22-04 reported, "Please hurry, reactor charge is at 128%."

"They're on my tail!" the medic's voice came back, the comm fuzzing against the sound of Savanna's rifle barking, "Zerglings in the halls…I can't outrun them!"

"I am sealing the route behind you private," the adjutant replied, "Continue to the command hangar. Reactor charge is at 132%."

Savanna did not bother to respond as she took off down the hallway. The heavy slams of blast doors rang down the corridor as the adjutant's sub-routines did their best to block the zerg. 22-04 raised her eyes to the command console, a mere twenty feet away. With a determined heave she planted one metallic palm against the deck plates and pushed herself forward, dragging hundreds of feet of cable behind her. Her shoulder joints gave strained whirs and clicks as she crawled across the deck, pulling herself towards the captain's console one palm at a time. The holo-table readout began to blare a high level alert, but the adjutant paid it no heed as she struggled towards the console. Her steel fingers finally caught the base of the captain's station and she pulled herself upright to sit on the mass of her cords.

"I'm in the hangar!" Savanna's voice crackled over the comm., "Boarding the shuttle now!"

"I am opening the bay doors private," the adjutant answered, "Please proceed to the cockpit and prepare for immediate launch."

Video feed from the hangar cameras provided 22-04 with a view of the captain's shuttle as the ship hummed and its engines glowed with power. The bay doors slowly creaked open, hissing as they vented atmosphere out of the hangar. The adjutant raised her hand over the captain's console and paused as her palm came to hover over the firing button. One directive demanded that she destroy the ship immediately, but an override came in the form of a hardcoded command: to ensure the survival of her only human crewmember.

"PFC Weiss," 22-04 reported, "Reactor charge at 193%. Please launch immediately."

"Disengaging platform locks," the medic answered, "Urgh… I'm not a pilot, adjutant. I don't think I can fly this thing!"

"Once you are clear of the vessel engage the auto-pilot," the adjutant replied, "I have already plotted a warp jump to the nearest star system. Please launch immediately PFC Weiss. Reactor charge is at 200%"

Savanna answered with a worried protest, but the adjutant's focus was ripped away when the high level alert blared loudly from the holo table. The synthoid raised her eyes to the alert, watching as it pinpointed a priority one threat located in the hall just outside. 22-04's eyes panned to the bridge doors as she heard something move outside, something big. The doors shuddered as something struck them, and then gave a high pitched whine as they were forced apart by some hideous strength. A quartet of serrated claws slipped through the cleavage in the doors and then pushed them open to make way for the horrifying monstrosity that followed.

A pair of long gleaming tusks preceded the mighty chitinous head that focused its gold glowing eyes down on the synthoid. The zerg queen regarded the adjutant and gave a low, rattling hiss as she shouldered her way into the room, striving to fit her bulk through the human sized door way. Without hesitation the adjutant's hand swept across the deck plates and her fingers snapped shut around the grip of the C-7 gauss pistol that lay at the base of the holo table. The queen reared as she pushed her torso into the room and raised her claws to strike, but halted as the adjutant raised the gun. The synthoid's arm gave a metallic snap as she leveled the weapon at the zerg queen, her sub-routines gathering into a makeshift targeting program to keep her aim steady. Queen and adjutant stared at each other, the zerg mother giving a hateful hiss until a heavy roar reverberated through the vessel.

"I'm away!" Savanna called over the comm., "Auto-pilot online… moving away from the Muspelheim… I think I'm clear!"

"Confirmed, ship evacuation complete," 22-04 responded, never taking her eyes from the looming queen, "Commencing detonation in 4… 3… 2…"

"Adjutant…" Savanna interrupted.

"Private?" 22-04 asked.

"It was an honor serving with you ma'am," Savanna said, "And… thank you."

"Acknowledged," the adjutant answered, "Good luck Savanna Weiss. And… good-bye."

No sooner than the words had left her lips the adjutant's palm depressed the button, and the zerg queen released a wrathful scream. Even as the queen lunged at her, the Muspelheim gave a groan of pain and the Yamato's core exploded. Sparks flew and plasma relays burst as the preceding EM pulse tore through the vessel, followed by the blast of the battlecruiser's super weapon. A wall of white fire blew through the bridge and blasted through the ruined corridors, incinerating all in its path.

From the portholes of her shuttle, Savanna Weiss watched as the Muspelheim was torn apart in a dazzling and terrible array of blue, white and orange flame. A solemn sigh left the medic's lips and the visor of her helmet slipped away from her face. The private raised a hand to her temple, offering a slow, firm salute even as space and time stretched around her and the shuttle pod warped away.


End file.
